


Hide the Mistlepole

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek Winter Holidays Series [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Bickering, Chocolate Reference, Explicit Language, Frisky Spock, Humor, M/M, Marsala Wine, Mistlepole, New Year's Eve, New Years, One Shot, Party Planning, Snarky McCoy, Spock's New Years, Star Trek Humor, Wine, horny Spock, spones - Freeform, star trek new year's eve, star trek new years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: It's New Year's Eve, and Spock is feeling frisky.  He decides to throw a party.  A 'Hide the Mistlepole' Party!Huh?  A what?!  What's Spock up to now?!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2017!

“Gotcha,” Leonard McCoy muttered with a triumphant grin as he gazed down upon what appeared to be a new variety of amoeba looking back at him through the high-powered microscope. It was a fluke that the amoeba had even been noticed, at all. The tiny organism had been found growing on a stray, nondescript meteorite that had crashed onto a nondescript planetoid at sometime in the planetoid’s distant past. On a landing mission, Pavel Chekov had picked up the rock, apparently attracted to some shiny silica speckling its surface. Back on the Enterprise, Chekov had idly shown the play pretty to McCoy who, on a whim, had checked it under a microscope. In studying the silica, he had thought to check for amoeba. Why the hell not? He had a few spare moments, a rarity, and he had decided to play a little. After all, couldn’t he explain himself as a scientist always on the outlook for new signs of life? Didn’t he, Leonard Horatio McCoy, have an unscientific streak of romanticism about him that was always playing in the back of his mind? An unscientific streak of romanticism that was always lurking around to remind him that some of the greatest scientific discoveries on Earth had been found by accident while searching for something else? Sometimes the end result had been far removed from the initial experiment. 

At least McCoy had known for what he was searching. Life. Signs of life. Life where it shouldn’t be, but was, nonetheless. There was something triumphant about that concept. Life clinging gamely on where it shouldn’t be existing, at all. It was something that always gave McCoy hope in the cold, stark, unromantic light of science.

McCoy quickly found indications that more interesting and, therefore, even more unique features could be detected with vigilance if he examined the rock thoroughly. It had taken time and patience to isolate the amoeba, and now the reward for his labors was apparent as he gazed down upon something that no human eyes had ever seen before. The McCoy Amoeba! His conscience nudged him. Of course, he would mention Chekov in his dissertation, but it was McCoy’s diligence that had rewarded mankind with this unique contribution to its vast array of knowledge.

Well, okay, he conceded. Maybe the McCoy-Chekov Amoeba. He knew that Chekov wouldn’t have minded not being mentioned as the discoverer, but McCoy wouldn’t have felt right about his discovery. This way, he could be guilt free.

Of course, it would’ve been perfect if he, himself, had been the one to have picked up the rock. Why did the Russian kid have to be the one attracted to something that sparkled?

Okay! The Chekov-McCoy Amoeba! Better?! 

Yes, now was better. Now he could admire the specimen guilt free. 

He spread his legs to better anchor himself. The view through the microscope lens could never tire him. Just look at it! The grubby, little critter far outshone its silica neighbor, McCoy thought, as he studied his find. Just think what this could mean! He, Leonard H. McCoy, would go down in scientific research! Prizes would surely be awarded! Maybe he would earn grants for further study on that nondescript planetoid. Why, he might even be responsible for settlement of that new world! He could be responsible for a whole new civilization being created! They would name cities after him on that planetoid! Hell, the whole planetoid might bear his name! McCoyville! It had a certain ring to it!

McCoy never saw it coming as he stood there, bent over, spread-legged. Of course, he never thought he’d have to be on the lookout for it, either. One moment he was all leaned over the microscope studying his triumphant find, and the next he was standing upright with a surprised look on his face. The microscope had been knocked asunder and its precious slide, along with others, was lying scattered across the lab table. That fact alone would’ve pissed him off on a good day, but that wasn’t his main grievance this time.

A moment later found McCoy whirled and snarling up into Spock’s face, “Why in the hell did you just run your hand up between my legs and squeeze my balls?! Did you want me to crap my pants?! It would‘ve served you right if I‘d pissed all over that creepy Vulcan hand of yours! Maybe that would‘ve short-circuited something electrical in your eerie hand, and you would‘ve disappeared in a cloud of acrid smoke! That would be a fitting end for a ball pincher like you! What in the hell was your idea, anyway?!”

Spock gave him a placid look. “I wanted your attention.”

“You’ve got it! Now, what in the hell do you want?!”

“I want to invite you to my New Year’s Eve party.”

“A printed invitation is a more accepted form of correspondence, you know.” He glared, just to make sure the alien was listening. Nothing seemed to faze the haughty, self-satisfied look on Spock’s face. And that did nothing to improve McCoy’s humor. “Damned Vulcan, crazy as hell,” McCoy muttered as he gathered the slides together and made sure that all were accounted for. “Shouldn’t let you out without some sort of keeper,“ he muttered. “Shouldn’t be allowed out, at all, except on a leash.” Then he glared at Spock. “A damned short one!" He turned aside. "Isn’t it a little late to be inviting people to a New Year’s Eve Party? That’s just a few hours away, you know.”

“I know. I possess a timepiece and have access to other means of telling time. It will be no problem,” he said with smug satisfaction.

McCoy looked back at Spock. “What in the hell are you up to?! As a foul-mouthed, old woman I knew used to say, you’re acting like you got the world by the ass, and everyone else is having to smell the farts.”

“I am just getting in the spirit of the season. How many times have you not admonished me to do that very thing? To loosen up and live in the moment.” Spock smiled broadly, straightened his shoulders, and threw his chest out proudly. “Well, here I am, ready to live in the moment.”

McCoy studied the Vulcan closely. Spock was acting in a manner that McCoy could only describe as chipper. Spock should not be chipper. That just didn’t seem right. 

But there was that business of McCoy constantly ragging Spock about loosening up. Well, here he was. Loosened.

McCoy could only blame himself.

“Have you already been in the chocolate, Vulcan?”

“Oh, Leonard,” Spock answered with a twinkle in his eyes. “I am high on Life.”

“You’re high on something, that’s for sure.“ McCoy sighed and turned away. “I don’t now why in the hell you startled me like that. It took me a week to isolate that amoeba, you know. This may well be where I get to leave an indelible record of my name on scientific research.” He felt his rant escalating again and he glared at Spock. “And you risk all that, plus a dirty pair of trousers and skivvies because you were in the mood for a free feel?! I might even have a bruise the size of your groping hand on my balls out of that fumbling grope.” McCoy‘s glare deepened. “What if I go into supper walking like a damned cowboy who‘s been in the saddle too long? What if the rumor gets started that somebody‘s been riding ME?!”

“Sorry. I guess I was excited.”

McCoy frowned. “You? Excited? What’s that like?” His glare at Spock continued. “Is that why you wanted to extend a personal invitation? You were giddy with excitement?”

“Among other things. An invitation might have gotten lost in the ship’s intergalactic mail service.”

“How do you figure that?! It isn’t like our mail goes by open jeep along a country lane around here! There’s very little chance that a gust of wind would cause it to scatter across the countryside. We don’t get many big puffs of wind out here in deep space, you know.”

“I believe that word of mouth is more reliable for invitations.”

“You’re going to get damned tired before you deliver invitations to everyone on the Enterprise. By the time you’re finished, it’ll be time to start delivering invitations for next year’s mad gala.”

“Not everyone on the Enterprise will receive an invitation.”

That got McCoy‘s attention. “Oh?”

Spock looked smug. “The party is very exclusive.”

“How exclusive?”

“You and me and Jim and Scotty and Keenser and Pavel.”

“What kind of party can we have without women?”

“Oh, Leonard!”

McCoy thought about it a moment. “Six men. I take it then that you’re not renting a ballroom for this social event of the season.”

“How very appropriate that you used that exact term.”

“What’s that?”

“Ballroom.”

McCoy frowned in thought as he studied Spock. “Just exactly what kind of party are you planning, anyway?”

“Costume.”

“Costume? For six guys? How entertaining can that be?”

“Very. You see, we’re all be coming dressed as the New Year.”

“The New Year?! But that would be a new born baby! We’ll all be naked as jay birds!”

“Precisely.”

“Oh?” McCoy thought about it, then began to grin. “Oh!”

“Understand now?”

“Do I ever! Boy, Spock, do you ever know how to throw a party!”

Spock looked smug. “I thought that you would like my idea, Leonard.”

“But we can’t go strolling around the hallways of the Enterprise in our birthday suits. How do you propose we arrive at your party? With Security right behind us, ready to arrest us for indecent exposure?”

“We will wear robes in the hallway and disrobe at the party.”

“Well, that should cause excitement for about a minute and a half.”

“I’ve thought about that. We do not want a blatant effect. An air of mystery surrounds something that is scantily covered, so that is what we will do. Under the robes will be the briefest of attire. I am going to suggest two strategically placed washrags held together by clamped chains riding low on the hips for an exotic touch at the start of the party.”

“Washrags, eh? I don‘t know how you’re going to be hanging that night, but I’m going to need at least tea towels. Otherwise, there weren’t be any mystery about me, at all. And if what I hear about Keenser is true, he might need a couple of bath towels. That guy’s supposed to be really hung. All of his growth stayed in that area. But, if it’s chilly on the Enterprise that evening, I might need my tea towels to be fur lined.”

“The party will be in my quarters, so you will not have to worry about being cold.”

“That’s right. Your quarters are always the temperature of a sauna, anyway. You’re right. Nobody should get cold in there. Someone might suffer heat exhaustion, maybe. But nobody should get cold.”

“Oh, Leonard, one would believe that you don’t want to play, the way you are complaining.”

“What are you saying?! I’m always the life of any party!” McCoy snapped. “Any party that makes sense, that is!”

“If you continue with this attitude at the party,” Spock said playfully, “you will incur our wrath. You may have to be punished. Severely. By all of us.”

McCoy’s blue eyes twinkled. “Now, you’re talking! Is that what happens to bad little boys like me when I don’t mind? Do I get my bottom spanked soundly?”

“We’ll even gag you so you can scream all you want and as loudly as you want.”

"And tie my hands over my head, so I can‘t fight back?”

“And put in an extra large butt plug so that it hurts whenever you move.”

“Or a vibrator? With massaging whiskers?”

“Leonard, you are getting ahead of yourself.”

McCoy danced on the balls of his feet. “Just anticipating.”

“Now, do you know where I can find infant syringes, Epsom salts, and plastic sheets?”

“Why in the hell do you need those things?!”

“Think, Leonard.”

“Oh. Oh, okay. But why do we need to be cleaned out so thoroughly?”

“So we can play a game I’ve invented.”

“And that is?”

“Hide the Mistlepole.”

“Don’t you mean mistletoe?”

Spock‘s dark eyes danced. “Not the way we are going to play it!”

McCoy looked wry. “Now who’s getting excited, Mr. Spock?”

“I have thought about this game for a long time, Dr. McCoy.”

“I can tell. I bet it can put you right to sleep. After awhile. After awhile of, ah, applying, ah, techniques, shall we say?”

Spock raised an eyebrow and almost allowed himself to grin. “Shall we say.”

“Hide the mistlepole. How in the hell do you play that?!”

“Well, we go hunting for some mistletoe in each others' rectum.”

“And why would we go hunting for mistletoe up there?”

“Funny, everyone forgets about why they were hunting for the mistletoe after awhile.”

McCoy‘s eyes twinkled. “Then, it’s about the journey and not the destination.”

“Precisely.”

“We’re up to two games, so far. And, so far, I’m going to be the winner!”

“Oh, Leonard, you are such a masochist!”

“Tell me more about this Hide the Mistletoe.”

“That is Hide the Mistlepole.”

“Mistletoe. Mistlepole. What’s the difference?”

“About three feet.”

"Pervert!" McCoy muttered. He glared as Spock’s eyes twinkled again. "Or are you just a wishful thinker?"

Spock almost pulled one of McCoy’s favorite stunts by bouncing on the balls of his feet. McCoy swore the Vulcan was about to perform that gymnastic.

“What are you talking about?!” McCoy finally demanded when Spock offered no explanation on his own.

“The mistlepole is a special feature that I am bringing to the party. I will be carrying that with me.”

McCoy‘s curiosity almost placated his annoyance. “Really?”

“Yes.”

That time the damned Vulcan really did bounce on the balls of his feet, he was so excited. He could barely contain himself.

McCoy decided to humor him. It was rare to see Spock in such a relaxed, festive mood. Surely McCoy could be a big enough person and a good enough friend to let Spock have his fun. "Where?" he asked and braced himself. Hard telling what would come out of the Vulcan's mouth next. Spock was certainly on a roll today.

"Where are you carrying this mistlepole?" McCoy repeated.

Spock's eyes glowed. “Right between my legs, Doctor.”

McCoy‘s face cleared. He was so impressed that it took him a moment to speak. “Spock! You’re a genius! You‘re hung like a Martian racehorse! A stallion! Maybe not as much as Keenser, but you’re impressive just the same!”

Spock tried to look humble. “I will, of course, allow you other gentlemen to also hunt for mistletoe with your own personal mistlepoles.”

“I plan on bringing mine!”

Spock smiled at McCoy’s enthusiasm.

“I’ll not be leaving my mistlepole at home!”

“I figured you could be talked into bringing it along, Doctor.”

“It’s never far. As close to me as McCoy, Jr.”

“Anyway, my quarters,” Spock said as he headed for the lab door.

“Count me in!”

“Good. And, oh, yes,” Spock said as he paused at the door, “don’t forget your blindfold!”

McCoy’s eyes fairly twinkled. “Blindfold, wow! Game number three. I want to go first. With you.”

“But I wanted to save you for last. After the others leave. I will be serving breakfast for you. On my lower abdomen. Any special order?”

“Sweet potatoes with maple syrup on them! And spicy whipped cream! Nice and runny, too." He looked positively wicked. "So I will have to lick and lick it all off of you before it runs down into places you don't want it.”

With an arched eyebrow, Spock noted the idea with proper appreciation. “However you wish it, Leonard.”

“The spicier the better, too.”

“It’s always spicier, in the southern climes, especially those south of the belt buckle.”

“Is it close to midnight yet?!”

“Patience, Leonard. I will let you anticipate some more.”

“I’m way ahead of you, Vulcan!”

“Remember, after the others leave. You and me.”

McCoy gave him a flirty look. “I’ll bring the lube.”

Spock growled low in his throat. “My quarters. Do not be late.”

“Count me in!”

“No, Leonard. I will be the one going in. All the way.”

“Wanna have the party right here? Right now? I’ll scoop this microscope and slides on the floor.”

“What about your exotic specimen that seems to be so precious to you?”

McCoy gave him a flirty look. “It’s standing right in front of me, looking horny as hell.”

Spock‘s eyes nearly dilated. “Oh, Leonard. I have stirred you, have I not?”

“Damn straight! Now get out of here, and get this party rolling!”

Spock reached for the door of the laboratory, and it slid open.

“Oh, and, Spock?”

Spock turned at the door. “Yes, Leonard?”

“Get your mistlepole limbered up. This sounds like one helluva party!”

“I will be prepared, Leonard. Make certain that you are.”

“Damn straight on that one, too, you hobgoblin!” McCoy muttered as the door slid shut between them.

 

McCoy was humming as he straightened the microscope and readjusted the slide of the amoeba to his satisfaction. It was going to be difficult to concentrate on intergalactic space dust after Spock’s visit.

Because McCoy’s thoughts were whirring. Already his mind was on the party, and his body longed to be.

His humming intensified. Wonder if he had enough chocolate on hand to get a certain Vulcan very drunk?

Now, what was that he had heard about Spock and Marsala Wine?

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing dealing with Star Trek, including story lines and/or characters.


End file.
